Pretty Dollies: Our Girl Part 1 of 3
by Ms. Selly
Summary: Buffy could tell how much Spike loved the little girl who called him "daddy"...what she didn't was how much she would come to love both of them, or the trials they would face together. Spuffy
1. Prologue

Pretty Dollies: Our Girl

Prologue

Timeline: Early Season 6…but Buffy didn't die…no magic addiction has come to the surface…Giles still left though

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            The streets of Sunnydale were dark, the sky black except for a tiny sliver of crescent moon.  For some unknown reason, all the vampires appear to be staying in tonight, as well as the demons.  For one of the very, very few times in it's history, all was well in Sunnydale, California.  Everything was quiet and still, it was past midnight.  Everything, that is, except…

            "I don't believe this.  I am going to pretend you did not just say that, Slayer."

            "Come on, Spike.  You know it's true."

            "You're insane.  Absolutely insane.  Something in the underworld must not have agreed with you because you're obviously off your bird."

            "Just admit it, you agree with me…you're just being stubborn."

            "I'm not stubborn, you're pig-headed."

            "I? I'm pig-headed? Oh, that's a laugh!"

            "You're being so American!"

            "You're being so British!"  
            "Adam Sandler is NOT funnier than Monty Python!" Spike bellowed into the night, his pale cheeks flushed with the heat of the battle.  Buffy tried to keep a straight face but soon began to helplessly giggle.  He was so…serious.  Valiantly defending his favorite comedy, to the deepest hell and back again.  It was so depressing it was hilarious!

            "Monty Python isn't even funny.  It's just creepy."

            "It's a higher form of comedy.  It's lost on you uneducated Americans," he sniffed, and the entirely pompous look on his face reminded Buffy of Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, her former Watcher, and she started giggling again.  This was nice.  Spike could always be trusted to cheer her up.  Sure, he was rude and annoying, not to mention in love with her, but he was funny.  On a light Slaying night, it was good to let go a little.  Her 'letting go' was interrupted by a small figure they were approaching fast.  When she got a little closer, she could tell it was a young girl.  _What's a little girl doing out so late?_ She thought to herself.  Before she could turn to Spike, a vampire vaulted out of a nearby alley straight towards the girl!  Buffy's voice choked in her throat.  She couldn't make it in time.  The girl would die.  But curiously enough, in a demonstration of knowledge and power seldom connected with little girls, she brought up her hand with one fluid motion and, making good use of the stake clutched in it, the vampire was soon blowing in the wind.

            The girl turned slowly to look at them.  She appeared to be about six.  Her hair was a shiny strawberry blonde that flared out around her ears; except for a thin section wrapped in various bright cloths that nearly reached her feet.  Her eyes were sparkling green, set into a pale porcelain face.  She wore an exquisitely ornate dress, a deep burgundy, trimmed with delicate snowy lace.  Her small feet were contained in matching silk slippers with tiny bows.

            Next to Buffy, Spike froze, and when she would turn to look at him moments later, she would see his already pale skin had gained the approximate coloring of chalk.  When the little girl spoke, it was in a musical voice with an English lilt.

            "Hallo Daddy."

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Cliffhangery…and no, it isn't what you think.  Stick around for the first chapter, don't leave me now! R+R


	2. Chapter 1

Pretty Dollies: Our Girl

Part 1

Author's Note: There are going to be a few flashbacks in this story…I use italics, so if there's a section of italics, it's a flashback.  Just a sentence or two is thoughts.

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            Spike slammed the door of his crypt, sending small flurries of dust fluttering down from the ceiling.  The girl looked around appraisingly.  Spike had grabbed her hand and strongly, but gently led her to the crypt; all before Buffy had gotten a word in.  He sat down on the sarcophagus near the center and the girl came over and climbed onto his lap.

            "Now, kindly tell me what you're doing here?  Did…did Drusilla send you?"  She studiously ignored him and toyed with the partially frayed lace cuffs on her left sleeve.  He growled quietly and hoisted her up and around to face him.

            "Come on, you know you have to tell me eventually."  She turned regretfully from her cuff and looked up at him angelically.

            "Tell you what?"

            "Guindeviere!" He grabbed her small chin in his hand when she tried to look away, "I need to know."

            "Who was the lady you were shouting with?"

            "Don't change the subject!" He exclaimed, then he considered his words and looked at her with sudden comprehension, "But you aren't, are you?"  Guindeviere didn't answer.

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_            "We're hooooome!" Drusilla sang, waltzing through the archway that led into the grand hall they had been staying in.  Guindeviere trailed behind, looking no more than four in powder blue.  This dress was covered in smooth, colorful ribbons.  The collar was high and stiff…and speckled with brilliant red, testament to the fate of it's former owner._

_            "Look Dru, you spoiled Guindeviere's new dress before she even wore it," Spike clucked his tongue in a perfect imitation of a disappointed mother.  Dru giggled and shrugged._

_            "We can clean it.  I wonder sometimes if it's possible…to scrub death out of a gown…to wring hatred out of socks.  If you do Spike, promise to let me wear them.  Such marvelous socks they would be…enough to make the heavens weep and the Earth bleed," she lay down in the puddle of drying blood and viscera that spread from the owner of the grand hall.  She began to make a "snow angel" and giggled madly again, "I should like a pair of socks made of blood."_

_            "I don't think socks come in 'blood', ducks," Spike told her, but she was already lost in her mind, thinking, no doubt, of interesting kinds of socks.  He felt something near his foot, and looked down to see little Guindeviere had slumped into a subconscious stupor, arms wrapped around his leg.  He smiled fondly down at her, then felt a wave of disgust for himself.  It was disgraceful.  A vampire, feeling affection for a young girl…he would be the laughingstock of the underworld if anyone ever heard.  And that didn't even count if Angelus ever knew.  Drusilla, she their sire would humor in her wish to care for this mortal child.  But Spike…never.  Despite himself, he found himself brushing a lock of soft hair away from her closed eyes.  No matter what he told himself, or anyone else…he loved his little Guindeviere._

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            Buffy sat at the kitchen counter, sucking absently on one of the Popsicles Dawn had made.  She was so busy thinking, she barely even realized it was Coke-strawberry.  Who was that little girl?  She called Spike 'daddy'…was she his daughter?  But Spike didn't have a daughter, vampires couldn't have children.  _But what about before then?  Her dress was definitely antique-y_ she thought then shook her head.  No, Spike had told her about his human past.  He wouldn't have left a daughter out.  Not after he had told her so much else.  It was endearing, in a way…he knew he could have easily painted a picture of his young self as a rebel who didn't give a rat's ass about the rules of society, and she would never have known the difference.  But he didn't.  He told her the truth…that the man who stood before her now had sprung from a weak, mamma's boy, 'bloody awful' poet.

            There was a twang of guilt.  Spike told her so much, and she never let him in on her past.  How she had felt when things went wrong.  _It's different_, she told herself fiercely, _he loves me.  I don't love him.  I don't have to tell him anything._ Somehow though, she knew some of that wasn't true.  If only she could figure out which part that was.

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            Willow nodded blankly, valiantly attempting to stifle a yawn.  Anya was babbling about the wedding again.  She'd been going on and on for hours.  What was she talking about?  Possibly flower arrangements.  Or her post-wedding plans for Xander.  She really wasn't sure.  _Does she even need to breathe?_ Willow thought desperately.  She briefly contemplated doing a quick little spell that would give Anya the uncontrollable urge to run out and buy chili, but she resisted.  Anya was just excited about her special day.  Just because she didn't realize that no one else was particularly interested wasn't her fault.  _I would be more interested if I was ever going to have a 'special day'_, she thought, face sinking into her hands.  Wait…was, had she stopped talking?  Willow tuned herself in.

            "So I told him that that just wouldn't do and he looked at me like I was a grossly unpleasant thing to be looking at so I…"  _False alarm_, Willow thought glumly, tuning out again, _just a subcategory change_.  Why wasn't Xander in here?  It was going to be his 'special day' too.  If he got all the happiness and glory, he should have to take the heartaches that went with it.  _Or earaches, as the case may be_…

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            At that moment, Xander was, in an interesting coincidence, talking to Tara.  They sat inside the Espresso Pump, Xander with his cocoa, Tara with a low-fat mocha.

            "So, what do you think Willow would want for the big b-day?" Xander asked, taking another sip.  Tara stirred her mocha nervously…she still got a tiny bit shy in one-on-one conversations with the Scoobies.

            "Oh…I s-should be asking you, I-I mean you've known her for-forever," she sounded faintly jealous and Xander grinned.

            "Well, yeah, but you're in on the whole Wicca thing, plus, no matter how long you know somebody, the person who sleeps with them knows them better," he grinned then realized he was talking to Tara (who might not get he was kidding) and stopped, "Oh, I mean, that's, if-"

            "It's okay," Tara said quickly, blushing with silent pride, "I-I know what you meant."

            "Good," Xander exhaled and flashed his lop-sided grin, "I wouldn't want to offend you…you might put some mojo on me…or tell Willow to turn me into a toad."  Tara actually giggled at that, put at ease with Xander.  He was a nice guy…the kind of guy she wouldn't mind dating.  Except for, of course, the whole 'guy' thing.

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R+R…I promise, questions will be answered next time.


	3. Chapter 2

Pretty Dollies: Our Girl

Chapter 2

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            Buffy waited until dawn came to go interrogate Spike.  She knew that he would be in his crypt then, unable to run away from her before she got some answers.  She opened the door slowly, she didn't want him dashing into the sewers.  She needn't have worried.  Spike was slumped against that horrid sarcophagus in the center of his tomb, obviously asleep.  He didn't budge at her intrusion.  The mysterious little girl was curled up in his lap.  She, however, opened her eyes as soon as Buffy poked her head inside.  Their eyes locked for a few moments before she poked Spike's shoulder gently.

            "The shouting lady is here, daddy," she told him quietly.  He grunted and turned his head the other way.  Not to be deterred, she poked him squarely in the ribs, "you know, daddy.  The Slayer."  Spike woke up immediately.  Buffy was shell-shocked for a minute.  How did she know?  Had Spike told her?  While she thought, Spike scrambled to his feet.

            "What do you want?" he asked quickly, pushing the little girl behind him protectively.  Buffy marveled at his sudden possessiveness.  The girl, for what it was worth, allowed him to shepherd her silently.

            "I want to know about her," she replied, taking a step forward.  Spike responded by scurrying backwards a few feet.

            "She's none of your bloody business," he growled at her.  Spike…growled at her.  He must really care about the girl.

            "I'm not going to hurt her, I just want to talk," she spread her hands in front of her, revealing them weaponless.  Spike relaxed slightly but still eyed her distrustfully.  She rolled her eyes, "At least tell me her name."

            "Guindeviere," he said shortly.

            "Guindeviere?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.  That was…extravagant.

            "I didn't name her, alright?" he said defensively.

            "Okay, okay.  I like it.  It's…nice," Buffy half-lied smoothly.  It really wasn't a bad name.  Just seemed like it belonged to someone a little…larger.  More impressive, "So…how old is she?"  He tensed again.  Buffy rolled her eyes again.  What was up with him today?

            "What's your name?" Guindeviere stepped smoothly out from behind Spike.  She was so adorable…but all the more reason to think there was something sinister beneath the surface.

            "I'm Buffy," she said with a sunny smile, watching the girl carefully.  Guindeviere nodded slightly, as though Buffy had confirmed something to her and stepped forward again.  Spike stood by and watched in amazement.

            "It's nice to meet you…mummy told me so much about you…"  At this, Spike stepped forward and his hand clamped down on her shoulder.

            "I knew it!  Now you listen to me, whatever 'mummy' told you about Buffy, it's not true…I want you to be nice."  Buffy looked on, totally confused. 'Mummy'? The girl's mother…but she called Spike 'daddy', and he definitely wasn't her father.

            "I'm always nice, daddy.  And what mummy said is true.  You're covered in Slayer…she's floating all around you daddy, even I can see it."  She giggled and danced away from Spike's grip.  Buffy thought hard…that sounded very familiar.  Where had she heard it before?  Something…somebody connected to Spike…it came to her in a rush.  The Bronze. Last year.  Talking about Slayer-killing. Drusilla.

            "Spike…" she said, warning in her voice.  He looked at her, and could see immediately that she remembered.  His shoulders slumped.

            "I guess I have to tell now, eh, luv?" he asked, smiling half-heartedly.

            "Let's go to the Magic Box…the rest of the gang needs to hear this." _Giles needs to…wait, no.  Giles won't hear this.  He abandoned me._  Spike took Guindeviere's hand and led her down to the sewers, Buffy following them.  Spike started to prepare for his talk with the Scoobies…_where do I begin?_

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_Drusilla giggled and twirled around the country cottage.  Spike laughed from atop the table, still set with food just now going cold.  The hospitable farmer and his wife, who had invited the weary travelers in for a meal and a warm place to stay, slumped in their seats.  They were a fairly grotesque sight for any humans, with spoons in their eyes (Drusilla's idea) and chair legs through their abdomens (Spike's idea); and when the farm hands came up to the house next morning, several of the big strong men lost their appetites.  But for now, Spike and Drusilla were reveling in the carnage, and the delicious homespun taste of farmer's blood.  Suddenly, Dru stopped dead in her dance and sniffed to air._

_"I smell an ickle treat," she told Spike, "Something moist and sweet…"  Spike inhaled and he too could smell it.  Under the food, and the blood, and the wood, and the animals…there was the scent of a child.  It was afraid.  All the better, the sweetness of innocent blood with the added tang of fear.  He turned, and saw a tiny toddler peering horror-struck from behind a corner.  He remembered now…the farmer had spoken briefly of his daughter, already in bed when they arrived.  Well, she wasn't in bed anymore.  The girl looked to be perhaps three years old, and she was a pretty little thing, with warm golden hair mixed with a dash of red and brilliant emerald eyes.  Maybe I'll kill her quickly, Spike thought generously, since she's so precious.  He stalked towards her, licking his lips in anticipation, but Drusilla laid a hand on his shoulder and went forward herself.  She knelt down in front of the child._

_"Ooh…she's a dear one.  A good little child.  I can see it…her goodness dances in a pink waltz," Dru hummed a little accompaniment to the waltz only she could hear, "Oh Spike…can I keep her?"  Spike raised his eyebrows…was she joking?  But no, she was tucking the child's gorgeous hair behind her ears and cooing softly._

_"You want to keep her?  She's human, ducks."_

_"But Miss Edith wants a sister…isn't she the prettiest little dolly?  A little sister for Miss Edith…"_

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            "She's half-vampire." Spike said begrudgingly.  The assembled Scoobies, Willow, Xander, Anya and Tara all gasped appropriately, as did Buffy.  Dawn, for once, had not complained about her exclusion from this meeting, probably because her alternate assignment was to watch over Guindeviere.  The two were currently playing some hand-clapping game, Guindeviere acting the perfectly normal child.

            "But that's impossible!" Willow exclaimed.  When Dawn glanced their way she lowered her voice, "Giles himself said…there isn't a halfway between vampire and human.  It's one or the other…isn't it?"

            "Bloody Watchers…full of misinformation," Spike spat rather unceremoniously on the Magic Box floor.  Anya glared at him.

            "How can you be half-vampire?  I agree with Will, isn't it kind of an all or nothing type of deal?"  Buffy offered.  Spike sighed in exasperation.  Did he have to spell everything out for these ninnies?

            "Right then, to be turned, you get your blood sucked, and when you're nearly dead, you get some vampire blood, right?"  They all nodded.  They knew this part.  "You only change if you're near death.  If you exchange blood with a vampire when you aren't dying, then you become half-vampire.  You get some of the benefits of vampire blood, but not all of it."

            "So, what do you get?  Or lose, from your humanness?" Buffy asked while everyone else was still processing.  For some odd reason, this all made perfect sense to her.

            "Well, you got some of the super-strength, you got the good night-vision, good sense of smell," Spike ticked off the facts on his fingers, "better-than-average hearing.  Ehh…you can still go out in sunlight but it's painful…crosses and holy water take a much longer time to burn you…you get the bumpies, but no fangs…don't drink blood, well you can I 'spose but, ah, never mind…you can be killed any of the normal human ways, but you got the speedy healing…that's about it."

            "Well that's an awful lot of 'it'!" Xander finally spoke, "What were you thinking bringing the little devil in here?"  Spike was inches away from him in an instant.

            "Don't you dare insult Guindeviere.  If you ever speak that way about her again, I'll tear you apart. Chip or no chip," he growled menacingly, and everyone was convinced he would indeed tear anyone who spoke badly about the half-vampire apart.

            "But how old is she?" Buffy asked, "I mean, she seemed a little mature to be six."

            "Knew I was forgetting something!" Spike snapped his fingers, "Super slow aging…you age about once every 25 years or so.  So that would make her…"

            "I'm nearly 80," Guindeviere chirped from near Tara's feet.  They all jumped and looked down to see her sitting contentedly beneath the table.  They turned again and saw Dawn surveying the shop in confusion.

            "Did I mention she's a sneaky little thing?" Spike asked sheepishly while Guindeviere settled herself in his lap.

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End again! Spit-spot then! Review please!__


	4. Chapter 3

Pretty Dollies: Our Girl

Part 3

Disclaimer: Nobody but the dolly belong to me.

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            "Spike!"  Buffy jogged out of the Magic Box.  The sun had set and they were done questioning Spike about Guindeviere.  He paused and turned, Guindeviere at his side, as always.

            "Where are you going?"

            "Home, pet."

            "You can't be thinking of taking Guindeviere back to that dusty old crypt," Buffy wrinkled her nose at him.

            "Well sorry it doesn't live up to the Summers' child care standards, but I don't exactly have a summer home in sunny Miami Beach I can take her to," he snapped sarcastically.

            "She'll just have to stay with me until you can bring the crypt up to snuff," she sniffed jokingly.  Spike smiled sadly at her.

            "Thanks for the gesture…really.  But I'm not letting her out of my sight."

            "Then," Buffy took a deep breath.  She had been considering this the whole day, and the moment was at hand, "I'll just have to play hostess for both of you."  Spike stared at her.

            "Buffy…are you feeling alright?"

            "I'm fine."

            "Buffy…I couldn't impose…"

            "It's not imposing if I invite you.  Do you need an invitation with gold, embossed letters?  You and Guindeviere are going to come stay with Dawn and me."  Spike continued gaping.  Had Buffy been taken over by aliens when he wasn't looking?  Inviting him…not only to enter her house, but to live in it.

            "We'd love to…he's just worried he's going to do something he'll be ashamed of later, but don't worry.  I'll keep an eye on him," Guindeviere told her in a confidential stage whisper.  Buffy laughed slightly.  Spike blushed and his grip on Guindeviere's hand tightened noticeably.

            "Hey…" she whined, squirming around like a six year old girl.  Not like an 80 year old half-vampire girl.  Or, rather, it was how an 80 year old half-vampire girl would squirm around.  Buffy blinked the confusing thoughts out of her mind.

            "Come on Guindeviere," she paused and wrinkled her nose, "Spike, don't you have a nickname for her?  It takes a really long time to say 'Guindeviere' every time you want to talk to her."

            "Well, I, I used to…I sometimes called her Gwinnie," he shuffled his feet, embarrassed.

            "I think that's adorable.  Come on Gwinnie, Spike.  Let's go home."

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            "Have I mentioned how bad an idea this is?" Xander asked, rummaging around in his toolbox for the proper wrench.  Buffy had commissioned him to remodel her basement to make it habitable for Spike and Gwinnie, since the vampire refused to allow her out of his field of protection.

            "Only twice.  Or was it three times?  Or several thousand?" Buffy said with mock pensiveness.  She held two paint samplers up to the wall, "What do you think Tara?  'Mulberry wine' or 'Grape pleasure'?"

            "T-the mulberry…definitely," Tara smiled for a moment before returning to draping thick curtains over the small windows.

            "Jesus, Slayer!" Spike exclaimed.  He had been assigned to cleaning out all the junk, "Don't you throw anything away?" He unearthed an old torn bra and held it up, "Ooh…guess not."

            "Give me that!" Buffy screeched, snatching it out of his hands, a fiery hot blush scorching her cheeks.  It wasn't bad enough a guy was holding her underwear.  It had to be Spike…the most dirty-minded vampire she knew.  Plus he was in love with her, which was never good, "It's not what you're thinking…I got attacked by a vampire."

            "In your knickers?  Now that I would have liked to see," he smirked suggestively and Buffy wailed 'pervert!' and buried her face in her hands to hide an even stronger wave of blushing.

            "What's going on?" Willow asked, carrying a box full of paint brushes and tarp.

            "Oh nothing…Buffy was just enlightening us as to some of her more erotic Slays," Spike licked his lips and snickered.  Buffy hit him, hard, with an old catalog entitled, 'Medieval Weaponry Today'. "Easy on the goods Slayer!"

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            "Oh," Dawn sighed, "That's just gorgeous."  Gwinnie had just emerged from Buffy's room, changed into a new dress.  This one was a delicious looking minty green color, with silver lacing and matching hair ribbons wrapped around the long strip of hair that hung in front of her ear.  A suitcase full of dresses had mysteriously arrived at the Summers house, and they all seemed to belong to Guindeviere.  Dawn found herself wishing she grew up a hundred years ago or so, just so she could wear dresses like that.  Buffy had explained the whole story to her, and she really could see why Drusilla, crazy though she may be, had called Gwinnie her prettiest dolly.  She looked like a life-size doll, all dressed up 

and pale.

            "I'm sure Daddy could track some down for you, if you like my gowns so much.  He's very good at finding things…though I suppose I'm even better, since I found him,"  Gwinnie said, surveying herself delicately in the full-length mirror.  Dawn sighed inwardly.  She had to keep reminding herself.  Especially at the times when the half-vampire talked like this, at the same level as everyone around her.  Guindeviere was not a doll; she was not even a child.  She was around 80, with enhanced combat skills.  And she had grown up with Drusilla for a mother.

            "Oh no, they would never look as good on me as they do on you," Dawn tried to smile like nothing was wrong.  Gwinnie seemed to sense the other girl's discomfort and immediately threw herself into her arms.

            "I love you big sister!" She peppered Dawn's face with a flurry of kisses, soft and quick like butterflies brushing her cheeks.  Drawing away with a sunny smile she squeezed Dawn's arm for a second then giggled and barreled out of the room, "I'm gonna show Daddy my dressie!"  Dawn blinked and stared after her.  What had just happened?  She had just…_become a little kid_, Dawn thought, frowning.  What's going on?

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            "So, where's all this wood you need hefted?" Buffy asked, climbing into Xander's construction truck.  He entered the driver's side and slammed the door, then rested his hands on the steering wheel, looking upset.

            "It's in the lumber yard but…Buffy, I need to talk to you."

            "Okay. What's up Xand-man?" She asked, trying to make her voice light, but she could see something was wrong.

            "Buffy, I know I've said it before, and you think it's all a joke but…I really don't think it's a good idea to let Spike live in your house.  Hell, I don't think it's a good idea to let Spike in your house, but that's not what we're talking about."

            "I know it's weird, Xand…but I've thought this through.  Besides, it's not like he can hurt me."

            "We're not really clear on the Initiative's idea of 'hurting', Buffy!" He said, slamming his fist on the dashboard.  She stared at him and he brought a hand to his temple, "I'm sorry, Buff.  But I'm worried.  And we don't know how far the 'not hurting people' thing will go.  Maybe he can't hit you or Dawn.  That's good.  But that doesn't mean you can shrug him off as harmless.  Does it keep him from drugging you?  From threatening you?  Suppose he starts coming onto Dawn?  And he'll stop, but only if he gets you instead?  Or even nonviolent stuff! A lot of things can happen when you live in the same house.  How are you going to keep him from spying on you when you're changing?  Or walking in when you're showering?  And what if he decides he wants to send his little evil sprite out to-"

            "Xander!  I understand your doubts…and believe me when I say I've got them too.  But even if I can't trust Spike…I don't think he'd ever hurt me.  Or Dawn.  And if the 'evil sprite' is who I think you're thinking of, I don't think she'd harm us either… and I can take both of them if I want to anyway. But that's really not important Xander, because I believe in both of them.  They'd never hurt me."

            Xander mumbled something under his breath and turned the key in the ignition.  Buffy watched him closely.

            "What did you say, Xander?"

            "I said you didn't think Angel would ever hurt you either…and look where that got us."

            "Stop the car!" She stared at him with insinuation, "So that's what this is all about, isn't it?  You can't handle my trusting another vampire.  I thought you were over the jealous schoolboy phase, Xander."

            "I'm not jealous! I'm worried, apprehensive, hey, let's throw fretful in there to make it a good mix, but I am not jealous!  I don't know where you get off saying that to me!"

            "Fine.  Drive.  We'll go get that lumber, and pretend this never happened, okay?" Buffy asked, tilting her head in the Buffy-way that showed everyone who knew her she was severely pissed.  Xander glared at her for another minute then revved up the engine.

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            _"A ribbon and a bow, that makes a pretty melody, hmm?" Drusilla hummed to herself as she arranged a divine new gown on Guindeviere's slender body.  Her cheeks were strongly rouged and she stood perfectly still.  She never blinked, and if not for the nearly unnoticeable rise and fall of her chest beneath the mounds of ruffles, an observer might believe she really was a doll.  Because that made Mummy happy._

_            Sometimes Mummy wanted her to fight things, and sometimes she wanted her to sing like the plums in the floral arrangement did.  But a lot of the time, Mummy just wanted her to stand completely still and become a dolly.  Guindeviere may have been naïve to the modern world, she may have been a child, but she was not stupid.  She knew there was something wrong with Mummy, something that let her know and see things other mummies could not._

_She remembered once, a long time ago…when Daddy still was there, before the Dark…lightning had struck outside, and Guindeviere had turned to look before Mummy had finished dressing her.  It was horrible.  Mummy had screamed so loudly, Guindeviere had thought more lighting had hit her, and then Mummy fell to the floor and began to sob and writhe and wail.  Daddy had rushed over and picked Mummy up and whispered to her and sang her a little song.  If Guindeviere had known how to tell time, she would have seen that it took nearly four hours for Mummy to stop screeching.  And she knew that it was her fault.  That Mummy was in horrible, horrible pain, all because of her.  She never moved when Mummy was playing ever again._

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That's all for this one…READER POLL: I'm wondering what type of audience my writing draws so…how old are you guys? R+R+R+R!! J__


	5. Chapter 4

Pretty Dollies: Our Girl

Part 4

Note: I've just been informed that this fic has been nominated for the Barefoot Awards.  I would like to take a moment to say WAHOO!!

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            "Can we not do this now?"

            "Fine…just forget it ever happened."

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            "Does it have to be now, couldn't it wait till evening?" Spike pleaded, holding a box of Wheat-a-bix and standing by the kitchen counter.  Dawn had carefully drawn the curtains so he could eat with them.

            "Spike, we're just going to buy her some normal clothes.  Nothing is going to happen," Buffy shook her head in disbelief.  He was such a mother hen.

            "I know, I just…I don't want to miss anything."

            "Jesus, Spike! You are an overprotective mother!  We'll only be gone a few hours!  Besides, I need to pick some stuff up for Will's birthday."

            "All the more reason I should come! I need to buy a present!"  Spike exclaimed, thrilled to have found a plausible excuse to tag along on the shopping expedition.

            "You're getting her a present?"

            "'Course I am! Can't let Red get a year older and not get anything from me."

            "You can shop by yourself Spike. You are not going.  It's a girls' afternoon out.  No undead daddies invited."  Buffy put her foot down (figuratively speaking) and Spike, to her utter shock, began to pout.

            "Make sure to keep her in the shade.  Maybe put some sunscreen on her."

            "I will."  The little half-vampire in question entered the kitchen wearing a pair of Buffy's shorts that reached her ankles and one of Dawn's old shirts that was horribly baggy.  Buffy seized her hand and led her out of the house.

            "Stick to greens and blues!  She's got a cool complexion!" Spike called after them, from the safety of the kitchen.

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            "Don't you look like such a little sweetheart!" A clerk cooed when Gwinnie emerged from the dressing room in a horrible orange and green sundress.

            "I don't care for this one."  She said quietly.  Dawn had gone to buy ice cream, and Buffy was finding more and more adorable children's clothes.  She had never really had the chance to buy them for Dawn, and in light of her dismal failure at relationships, she figured this was her chance.

            "Such a cutie!  Your mommy just has to see this one on you!"

            "I said I didn't care for it," Gwinnie growled icily.  The clerk's eyes widened considerably and nodded wordlessly.  The girl turned and reentered the dressing room and stripped out of the dress.  All these shop assistants…they never listened to what she told them.  She always had to resort to 'the voice'.  The dangerous voice she knew sent shivers down adult spines.  Matched with 'the look', she was unstoppable.  She learned 'the look' and 'the voice' from Daddy.  When Daddy used them, you knew someone was going to get hurt.  All "grown-ups" were startled to hear such dangerous sounds from a girl half their height, even if she was twice their age.  But they didn't know that part.  Oh well, you didn't live for eight decades and not pick up any nice tricks.  She reached towards the pink and purple overalls and rolled her eyes.

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            "What's wrong Xander?"  Anya sat down next to her fiancée on the big sofa in the front room of their apartment.

            "Nothing."

            "Don't lie to me, Xander.  You're quiet, you haven't made any bad jokes today and you don't want to have sex.  There is something wrong."  Xander smiled slightly and sighed.  _That's my girl…_he thought.  She always knew when something was up.

            "I kind of argued with Buffy."

            "Oh.  Is that all?"

            "What do you mean, 'is that all'? Buffy's one of my best friends.  Now I might have to start saying that in past tense."

            "Come on, Xander.  You and Buffy have had plenty of arguments.  You always apologize and you return to your natural state of friendship."

            "I don't know…she seemed pretty mad."

            "It'll be fine.  Well, as long as you didn't insult her judgment and intelligence by questioning her decision regarding Spike and the small partial human."  Xander moaned hopelessly and sunk his head into his hands, defeated for the moment.  Anya patted his head awkwardly.

            "Does this mean I should remove Buffy from the bridesmaid list?"

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            "I'm just going to run down to the Magic Box to pick up the sage, okay?" Tara leaned in and gave Willow a light kiss on the cheek before she left the house.  Willow smiled slightly and returned to her brushing of Guindeviere's hair.

            "It was wrong." The small girl said, without any introduction or segue.

            "I know." Willow answered subconsciously and sighed.

            "Then why did you do it?"  
            "She was just so mad…I only wanted everything to be better between us.  No grumpy-ness or anything."

            "So you fiddled with her mind."

            "I didn't fiddle, I…tweaked."

            "You realize all you're doing is proving her point.  And she's only going to be madder when she does find out."  
            "She won't find out." Willow said quickly.  The brush caught and Gwinnie squeaked in pain, "Sorry."

            "You're going to lose, you know."

            "Huh?" Willow snapped out of the subconscious trance she had put herself in through the rhythmic brushing.

            "You'll lose the 'most'."

            "I don't…what are you talking about?"

            "Mummy isn't the only one who can see more than now."

            "You get visions, just like," Willow's breath caught in her throat.  Gwinnie shook her head sadly.

            "No.  Not visions like Mummy.  Just flashes.  Snippets and pieces."

            "And I'm going to lose the most?  The most what?"  
            "The 'most'.  Your 'most'.  Thank you."  She hopped off of the confused witch's lap and pranced off.  _My 'most'?  Most scary? Most confusing? That would be Gwinnie.  Most important?  I…I'm going to lose my magic!?  That would be the 'most'.  Wait…'most'…it's not magic.  It's Tara.  I'm going to lose Tara._

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            _The first time Drusilla had one of her "episodes" after acquiring her new dolly, the little girl who was not yet Guindeviere hid behind a curtain.  It was a few nights after she had left the cottage she grew up in.  Everything was blurry.  She remembered getting out of bed, and coming to the kitchen.  She remembered her parent's bodies.  But she was having difficulty remembering their faces.  She remembered the pretty lady who was there had talked to the mean-looking man behind her, then savagely bit her own lip open.  Then, the child remembered, she had been kissed, but the kiss had been filled with something both bitter and very sweet._

_            "Where the bloody hell is that little bitch?" the man roared.  He flung back the curtain and grabbed her arm.  He yanked her up, and it hurt.  He dragged her over to where the woman was lying on the bed, shrieking and sobbing._

_            "Drusilla, luv, lookie what I've brought.  It's your new little dolly, see?"  She could hear the tenderness and fear in his voice, even though she was mostly thinking about her arm.  His voice reminded her of the voice she had heard her father speak in before she had come to the kitchen.  She wasn't sure where all these connections and words were coming from…for some reason her mind was working faster than normal.  The woman raised her head weakly, and she could see she was very pretty._

_            "Oh, dolly," she ran a hand along the little girl's cheek.  It was cold and somewhat clammy, and the girl shuddered, "You need a name, don't you dolly?  A name for dolly…I think I shall call you Guindeviere.  A pretty little birdie, hmm?"  She fell back, tired, and closed her eyes.  The man pulled Guindeviere away, but this time he was a little more gentle._

_            "She named you.  Guess I have to feed you now, bloody waste of my time."  He growled, but Guindeviere could hear a hint of begrudged affection in his voice._

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            "Tara, I, I have to tell you something.  You might be mad at me for…well, forever, but I have to tell you.  You need to know…"

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Bum-buh-bum! R+R+R! And nominate me for more awards ^.^**__**


	6. Chapter 5

Pretty Dollies: Our Girl

Part 5

Disclaimer: I would be busy filming this if I owned it.

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            Spike was sleeping in the new bed Xander had built for him.  The clean sheets and blankets were bundled to one side of him, leaving him totally uncovered, except for his feet.  Gwinnie was watching him from her own bed, a hand-me-down from Buffy and Dawn.  Hers was light pink with small yellow flowers on the headboard.  But she wasn't paying attention to the flowers on her headboard, or the ducks on her covers.  She was watching her daddy sleep.  He didn't look like he was asleep.  He looked dead.  She knew that technically he was, but this was different.  Not only did he look really dead when he was asleep, he also slept like the dead.  Sometimes she had to sit on his chest and pull on his ears to make him wake up.

            "No…don't…don't poke that…it's not for poking…" Spike muttered, startling the girl staring at him, who promptly fell over.  She hadn't even realized she was so dangerously perched on the side of her bed.  But she didn't notice a lot of things when she was paying close attention to Daddy.  He was distracting.  She could see why the Slayer wanted to keep him near.  Even if the Slayer herself couldn't.

            She supposed very few people loved their daddy as much as she loved hers.  Sure, they cared very much, and sent them cards and bought presents and everything.  But they weren't really devoted.  Not really really.  Not like she was.  She would do anything for Daddy.  He took care of her when she was growing up, the whole seventy-plus years.  He was like a mummy and a daddy all in one, since Mummy wasn't really the mothering type.  He brought her food, and made sure it was good, even though he didn't eat food himself.  He washed her dresses when they got muddy, or bloody.  He kissed her when she was hurt, and when she wasn't.  He gave her big hugs, and let her kill things sometimes, if she was really good.  Daddy was perfect.  Completely perfect.

            "Stupid git…" Daddy grunted and rolled over.  Silently, Gwinnie rose and tiptoed over to Daddy's bed.  She climbed up and snuggled in, carefully molding herself to the curves and contours of his body, filling up all the empty places.  She knew that some people would think such complete intimate touch between a man and a girl her size was wrong, even criminal.  But that wasn't the case.  Gwinnie may have had the mind of an adult, but she was still prone to childish impulses.  One of which was her primal need to be touched.  She needed to know that Daddy was there, not by hearing him or seeing him, but by being able to feel him next to her, feel him completely enfolding her until she was unsure where Daddy began and she ended.  She sighed quietly and inhaled deeply, enjoying his scent.  Daddy smelled so nice.  Like blood, and chocolate.  And now, just a bit of vanilla.  A bit of Slayer.  _Chocolate and vanilla…how ironic_, she thought, a small smile twisting her angelic features before falling back asleep.

            "I've been thinking."  Buffy squeaked in surprise and very nearly dropped a very heavy punching bag on her toes.  She turned quickly, once she regained her balance to see Gwinnie standing in the doorway.  She was dressed in one of her new outfits, a pair of denim Capri pants with violets embroidered on them paired with a little violet shirt and denim jacket with the same pattern.  And a matching hat.  _The hat really makes the outfit_, Buffy thought with a happy sigh before focusing on the matter at hand.

            "About what?" She asked, hanging the punching bag up on a hook suspended from the training room ceiling.  She didn't bother asking how Guindeviere had managed to get dressed, escape the maximum security of the house, and find her way to the Magic Box.  She was a strange little girl.

            "About Slayers.  And you.  And pudding."  Buffy grinned slightly, despite herself.

            "I'm gonna take a wild stab and say this isn't about the last one?"  Gwinnie didn't smile back.

            "I want to spar with you."

            "Spar?  Me and you?  Gwinnie, sweetie…" Buffy shook her head.  How could she fight a little girl?  Especially such an endearing cute little girl?  Even if she was half-vampire and really old, she still looked like a little girl.

            "I'm serious.  I want to spar with you, and I won't leave until we do."  Buffy sighed.  Gwinnie was making her version of Willow's 'resolve face'.  No one could get in the way of a resolve face.

            "Fine, okay, we'll spar."  Buffy settled into a familiar stance, and Guindeviere did the same.  They did the traditional circling and Buffy sighed.  She was going to have to initiate this, she could feel it.  With a slight cringe, she aimed a light kick toward her small opponent.  Her foot was easily snatched out of the air.

            "You're holding back.  Please don't patronize me Slayer." Buffy felt a distinctly uncomfortable sensation as she was whipped into the air and crashed into one of the walls with more force than she had anticipated.

            Buffy grumbled her way down to the basement.  Gwinnie had finally left her alone.  The girl was, of course, no real match for the Slayer, but her remarkable speed and impressive agility had been enough to annoy Buffy for nearly an hour.  Satisfied for the moment, the half-vampire had simply walked away.  That was a strange little girl that absolutely defined "strange little girl".  Her back was still a tad sore from that surprising burst of strength at the very beginning.

            "Spike?"  She rounded the corner and squeaked, turning away uncomfortably.

            "What?" He asked mildly, either unaware the effect his lack of shirt startled her, or uncaring.

            "Sorry…should have made you sure you were decent, I'm sorry, didn't mean to barge in," she started babbling in a way that would have made Willow proud.  Spike grinned at her back and walked over, laying his hands on her shoulders.  She shuddered involuntarily.

            "Quite alright, luv.  Don't mind a bit.  'Spose I should get a little more on.  Or," he massaged her tensed muscles gently and leaned down to smell her hair, "I wouldn't object to you takin' some off…"

            Buffy squeaked in a rather un-Slayerlike fashion and batted his hands off fiercely.  He held them up in surrender.

            "I retreat, don't go stake-happy on me," he wandered over to the dresser he and Gwinnie shared and started digging around.  He pulled out a light green shirt with a teddy-bear on it and held it up to his chest.

            "I don't think that one suits you," Buffy said, trying to stay angry at him.

            "No," he replied solemnly, "Don't reckon it's my color."  Buffy giggled, and the victorious vampire pulled on one of his usual black shirts.

            "So, why have you entered my humble abode?" He asked, flopping down lazily on his bed.  Buffy stood at the foot of the bed, looking out of place.

            "Well, I just wanted you to know that Gwinnie might have to stay downstairs for a while later.  I'm going out."

            "Out where?" Spike asked suspiciously, sitting up.

            "I-I don't think that's any of your business."

            "Buffy…" he fixed her with his most penetrating glare.  She tried to look away, tried crossing her arms but couldn't seem to shake the feeling of his eyes boring into her.

            "If you must know, I'm going to a job interview."

            "A job?"

            "Well, yeah.  Someone's got to make money around here.  Since Mom…well, I hadn't realized how bad it's gotten.  I'm in some serious debt, and I need an income."

            "You don't need a job," he said with disgust, "You need money? I got money."  
            "No, Spike, I'm not taking your money."

            "Don't be silly Slayer.  Just tell me how much you need and-"

            "I don't need charity Spike!" _Plus, I'll never stop wondering where you got all that money_  she thought bitterly.  She couldn't just take his money, especially if there was a good chance it was gained illegally.

            "It's not charity, it's a gift."

            "No…we'll be fine…"

            "Not charity, not a gift…okay then, it's rent!" He reached his conclusion triumphantly, grinning at her, "I'm paying you rent for letting Gwinnie and me stay here.  Plus reimbursement for the money you spent refurbishing my new pad."

            "Spike…" But her resolve was crumbling.  There was nothing wrong with rent.  In fact, it was expected for someone allowing non-relatives to live with them to charge rent.  Rent was perfectly fine, and if it was rent, he was paying her, so there wasn't such a huge worry about where the money came from…she was rationalizing, but she didn't care.  Buffy needed money.

            _Dark.  So dark…she couldn't think, couldn't breathe.  Dark…stifling and muffling dark.  She had tried to scream.  She screamed for hours upon hours, possibly even days.  But no one came.  No one rescued her from the horrible dark.  Daddy! Where are you Daddy?  Why am I all alone here?  Why haven't you come for me?  Daddy…I'm scared. I'm lonely.  I need you Daddy!  She squeezed her knees close to her chest and trembled.  But then there was a crash.  An explosion of light!  It seared her skin and burned her eyes, even behind her eyelids._

_            "Hey Mac! There's a kid down here!"  A voice broke the spell of the light.  Someone was here.  She was out.  She could leave the Dark.  She could come out into the world.  She could find Daddy._

            Gwinnie walked down the hallway, putting her feet directly in front of each other, pretending to walk a tightrope.  Dawn had sent her to find some ribbon to wrap Willow's birthday presents with.  She opened the closet door and darted inside, looking up at shelves.  Then, with a thump, the door swung shut behind her.  She froze and turned around.  She pushed on the door, first tentatively, then throwing her whole weight into it.  It did not open.  She tried to take deep breaths but found herself gasping for air.  She thrust her arms out and slammed into the walls.  She spun around wildly, clawing at jackets and boxes.  After five minutes, she sunk to her knees and began shaking erratically.  The entire house jumped when her unearthly shrieking began.

Eso es todo ahora


	7. Chapter 6

Pretty Dollies: Our Girl

Part 6

Author's Note: Just saw Van Helsing this weekend. Loved it!!! I would definitely recommend it for the great action (if not for the less-than-stellar script)

            "So what's the diagnosis Dr. Will?" Xander asked.  He had come over to apologize and hopefully make Buffy less mad at him.  Now he was huddled with the other Scoobies on one side of the basement.  Willow walked over from the other side where Spike sat on Guindeviere's bed, the still trembling child unconscious in his arms.

            "Far as I can tell, she's violently claustrophobic.  Somehow she got shut in the closet and had some kind of panic attack.  Poor Gwinnie…"

            Buffy nodded slightly and glanced over at Spike and Gwinnie.  He was stroking her hair tenderly and murmuring something to her.  She convulsed, wrenching away from him, but he held her close to him, keeping her from jerking around too much.  He looked so worried…

            "Will she be okay?"

            "I think so…she's just traumatized, there isn't really any physical damage."  They all nodded slightly, and almost on cue, Gwinnie sat up with a start.

            "Daddy? Daddy?!"

            "I'm here precious, right here, 's alright, I'm here," he kissed her forehead and she clung to him tightly.

            "I was frightened.  I thought when I woke up you might not be here…like last time…"

            "Last time?"  Everyone stared at the small child.

            "Spike?" Buffy shifted her gaze, staring at him now, eyes full of questions.  He sighed slightly.

            _He sighed and put out his cigarette with some regret.  Nothing good was going to come of this.  Stirring up the locals, obvious murders, he didn't know what Drusilla was thinking.  She was just begging for a mob to come after them.  Of course, it was entirely likely she was doing just that.  She found mobs exciting and invigorating…even when they were after her.  He didn't usually mind, he could protect Drusilla if need be, and she was perfectly capable of protecting herself.  But it was different now.  They had her with them.  And he wasn't going to let his little girl get hurt.  He turned his head and called back to the dawdling girl._

_            "Come on, luv.  Just a bit farther."_

_            "Where are you taking me Daddy?" she giggled and skipped over the streets.  He allowed himself a small smile at her antics, but continued to hurry  her along.  If a mob started, he wanted his Gwinnie in a perfectly safe place._

_            "It's a surprise, ducky."_

            "So you drugged her and locked her in a basement?" Buffy asked, disgust and horror clear on her pretty features.  Spike growled quietly.

            "You're making it sound worse than it was!  I didn't think she would be there for more than a few days, maybe hours.  Just until those crazy townsfolk settled down.  It's not like I was trying to hurt her, I was trying to keep her safe!"

            "She's claustrophobic!"  
            "Well I didn't bleedin' know that!" He roared furiously.  Buffy stepped back instinctively.  Spike hung his head and massaged his temples gently.

            "I'm sorry, Buffy.  I lost my temper."

            "That's all right," she replied somewhat cautiously.  Spike looked back at her, hurt etched onto his face.

            "Not you Buffy…not you too.  All your wretched Scoobies are scared; think I'm some kind of sodding time bomb.  Don't you go thinking it too."

            "I don't," she said too quickly.  She looked at him guiltily and saw that he knew she was lying too.

            "You didn't have to do this, not with all that's happened today," Willow protested as everyone filed into the Summers' living room with their colorful gifts.

            "No complaining.  It's your birthday, and you are going to celebrate it," Buffy said firmly, setting her present down rather forcefully.  It clanked loudly and she winced.

            "Might as well celebrate all birthdays that don't end in widespread mayhem," Spike earned himself a whack and ducked away, "Just an observation."  Willow laughed and the opening began.

            "Mine first!" Anya shoved her gift towards Willow who picked up the card.

            "'**Have a very happy commemoration ceremony of your day of birth! Toodles, Anya**.'  Oh…slug candles.  How sweet."  Anya beamed.

            "My turn, my turn!" Buffy cried happily as Willow unwrapped hers.

            "**'Happy Birthday Wills, UR A QT! Kisses, Buffy**' Oh cool, an incense burner! Thanks Buffy!"

            "Me next," Xander presented his present with flourish.

            "**'For my friend on her happy day…Xandman P.S I know An is getting you slug candles, so here's something extra special ' ** This is really big, it's, oh Xander you didn't!!" Willow squealed with delight as she discovered a hand-crafted altar for her bedroom.  Xander grinned as he was hugged furiously.

            "I-I have one too."  Willow carefully took the package from Tara's hands and nervously unwrapped it.  They hadn't really been on speaking terms since she had revealed the memory-spell she did.  A lovely rose-quartz shaped into a heart fell into her lap.  It was looped onto a thin piece of string; a necklace.

            "Oh, Tara…it's gorgeous, I love it," She fumbled with the wrapping paper before leaning over and shyly kissed Tara's cheek.  Tara blushed, but smiled back.  Willow felt a swell of happiness.  This was the best birthday ever!  She unwrapped Spike's present (A T-shirt that read "Wicca Bitch" in ancient runes) and Dawn's (Some crystals) without paying much attention.  Tara loved her again!  The bad time was over! She wouldn't lose her!  
            "I have a present too." Gwinnie jumped down from her protected place on Spike's lap and set her gift down in front of Willow.  Willow opened it, curious as to what could be inside.  It was a shiny, hard-cover book with loopy script emblazing a title across the rosy cover: The Magic of Passion (Spells for Lovers).  She stared down at it, bewildered for a moment.  _She knew…_a voice in Willow's head whispered.  _She knew this whole time…knew that Tara forgave you.  That's impossible!_ Willow shouted back at herself _how could she know?_ _Unless she had a part in it…_the voice replied slyly.  _Is she manipulating us?  Messing with our relationships…what's the plan here?_

That would be all for the moment. RRR!!


	8. Chapter 7

Pretty Dollies: Our Girl

Part 7

A/N: I just watched the Angel finale.  I won't ruin it for anyone who hasn't watched

but I must say this…I HATE YOU JOSS!!! sob sob

Disclaimer: It all belongs to the terrible and wonderful Joss.

'

            Spike sighed, watching Buffy read.  She was still smarting from their little argument yesterday, he could tell.  He loved her so much…why couldn't she see that?  He had lost his temper with her, and he was sorry, but she would never acknowledge it.  She thought he was evil.  Below her notice.  Less than a man in the eyes of the great Slayer.  _Stupid bitch!_ He thought angrily, eyes narrowing. She tormented him and twisted with his feelings.  Led him on, then shut him down.  He hated her so much!

Then she paused in her reading to push a strand of hair away from her face.  So beautiful…so perfect.  He forgot his anger in a second and his face softened.  She made him want to compose poetry.  Write a thousand verses about her, and know he could write a thousand more and still be unable to capture even a single aspect of his Buffy.  He bit his lip.  He just had to make things better between them.  But what?  What could he do?

"Buffy," he started and she looked up quickly, "I don't think Gwinnie's ever been ice skating…"

            Buffy glided around the edge of the rink and just let herself feel the ice rushing beneath her skates.  She loved skating so much.  It was a great idea of Spike's to take Gwinnie.  She had, of course, insisted that she did not need any assistance with such a simple and trivial task.  That is, until she fall flat on her backside when she stepped onto the ice.  Spike was guiding her around the rink.  She was wobbling horribly, and looked like a perfectly normal little girl learning how to ice skate.

            Buffy executed a quick axel and hummed quietly along to the cheery pop music blaring through the speakers.  Surveying the rink again, she saw Spike and Gwinnie had stopped to take a break.  She skated effortlessly over to them, and hopped out to sit next to them.

            "Having fun, Gwinnie?"

            "This is a pointless activity," she said with a pout.  Spike grinned at Buffy with a look that told her this was how Gwinnie always reacted to things she couldn't do well.  Buffy grinned back before remembering she was upset with him and looked away.  The music paused, the lights dimmed, and a new slow, mushy hit began to play.  All the couples eagerly skated out to enjoy the special mood.

            "Buffy," she looked back to Spike to see him holding out his hand, "May I have this skate?"

            _No way Mr. Time Bomb Guy! Forget it!_ Her head shouted.  "Sure" said her mouth.  He took her delicate hand gently in his cool one and led her out onto the rink.  They skated slowly together, hand in hand.  Buffy found that it felt perfectly normal to be out with Spike for a couples' skate.  That was setting off all sorts of warning bells in her head, but she was pretty much ignoring them.

            Buffy felt Spike moving, and soon he was skating on her side, still holding hands, but looping the other arm lightly over her shoulder.  She reacted on instinct and slipped her own arm around his waist.  They skated in silence, like any of the other couples enjoying each other's company.  The song started to wind down and Buffy felt her knees wobbling.  _I'm tired_, she thought helplessly, _I've been skating for a couple hours_.  She slipped slightly and was spun around to face Spike.  They stared at each other for a while.

            _Oh no he's leaning, he's leaning down_, and he was indeed.  Despite her frantic thoughts, she tilted her face up to look at him. _No, get away, don't touch me, don't do this, it's wrong, it's horrible it-_was too late.  Their lips met, very softly, very tentative, just brushing.  Spike tightened his grip around her and she instinctively tensed.  In moments she was standing alone on the ice, Spike at least a foot away.

            "Sorry…uh…I didn't…well…I know how you…" he became very interested in one of the still-kissing couples a few feet away.  Buffy stared at him, feeling for some reason like she had never really looked at him before.  He was…a vampire.  But so beautiful.  She knew that word wasn't usually a compliment for a man, but he truly was beautiful.  And he loved her.  And she had just kissed him.

            "Spike," she began quietly, "I…I'm willing to…try.  This."  He looked up cautiously, not fully trusting his ears were hearing what she was saying and not what he wished she would, "I know, that you like things…fast.  And strong.  But…could we be slow?"

            "Buffy," he said, skating back to her slowly, "slow, steady, whatever you want.  It's always been whatever you want."  Buffy smiled shyly at him and he returned it.  And watching from the side, Guindeviere smiled as well.

_            The frightened little girl peered out of the shadows at the bustling airport.  The world was much noisier than she had remembered it to be.  Possibly it had gotten louder since she entered the Dark, but probably she was just unused to other creatures' presence.  Her eyes darted from person to person as they walked by.  None of them appeared threatening.  She stepped experimentally out of her shadow and was nearly run down by some rolling luggage.  She squeaked and darted to the other side of the hallway.  This could be more difficult than it appeared._

            Tara sat quietly, brushing her hair and thinking.  It was so nice to have Willow back in her life.  She had been so furious when she found out Willow did a memory charm on her.  Willow knew how horrible it had been when Glory messed with her thoughts, but she had done the same.  The trust was gone.  But Gwinnie helped change that.

            She didn't know why the small girl held such sway over everyone in the house, but she wasn't complaining.  Gwinnie had showed her that Willow had done what she had because she cared.  And that she had admitted to it.  She could have never brought it up, and Tara would have never known.  But Willow knew she had been wrong, and had apologized.  Wonderful, wonderful Willow…

            Gwinnie stood at the top of the stairs, calculating how many she could jump at once without shattering her leg bones.  Suddenly, the door opened.  She hopped all of them at once and landed cat like at the bottom.  She looked up from the floor at the giant of a stranger and her eyes widened.

            "Buffy-Mummy Mummy-Buffy!" She began to cry without pausing for breath.  Buffy jogged in and put a hand on the girl's shoulder.

            "What is it Gwinnie? What's going o-" she looked up and her own eyes widened considerably, "Riley."

            And it was Riley, imposingly filling the doorway and staring at her.

            "You…you have a daughter," he said, voice filled with shock, and, Buffy thought, a little disgust, "And you named her 'Gwinnie'."

            "Riley, it isn't what you-"  A door opened upstairs and everyone turned to see Spike jumping cheerfully down the stairs wearing only a pair of jeans and drying his soggy hair with a towel.

            "Here's my little girl," he growled playfully and swept Gwinnie, who whooped with delight, into his arms. "And my big girl…" he leaned in to kiss her cheek, "What's going on, ducks? I thought I heard comp-" feeling the horrified eyes of Riley Finn boring into him he turned his head slightly, still centimeters away from Buffy's face, "-any."

            "Riley, it, it isn't as bad as it looks," Buffy said helplessly.

            "You're right, Buff," he said, voice now dripping with disgust, "It's worse."

            Buffy stomped down the stairs to the basement.  She had finally gotten Riley to come back and talk in the morning.

            "What is it?" Spike asked when he heard her.  She began to dig through his dresser.

            "You've gotta have some liquor in here somewhere…"  Spike looked guiltily around and pulled a rather large bottle out from beneath his bed.

            "Just some whiskey…whoa, hold it luv," he held his hand out as Buffy snatched it away and took a long drink, "It's pretty strong, and if you aren't used to drinking-" She ignored him and took another swig.

            "Shut up Spike."

Ooh, naughty Buffy. RRR!


	9. Chapter 8

Pretty Dollies: Our Girl

Part 8

            Buffy stretched slowly and yawned.  She licked her lips and nuzzled closer to the pillow in her arms.  Then she smelled something suspiciously like whiskey and blinked her eyes open to a splitting headache.  It was very dark, she could just barely make out the outline of a bed.  A bed? What bed? She was in the…oh no.  Sitting bolt upright she looked around in terror just to see it was true.  She was in Spike's bed.  A quick check confirmed even worse news.  She was naked.

            This was, of course, not a good sign.  Waking up…naked…in the bed of a guy in love with her, who she was definitely not ready to be spending the night with…and she couldn't seem to remember anything about what happened the previous night. _Think Buffy think!_ She berated herself mentally.  What could she remember? _I remember…cold.  Cold hands._  Not a good thing to remember!

            There was a thump as the basement door swung closed.  Spike came trotting down the stairs, carrying a large tray.  He flipped the light switch with his elbow and smirked at the sight of Buffy quickly pulling up the sheet.

            "Morning, pet.  Brought you Red's best hang-over cure, plus some pancakes if you feel peckish."

            "Ummm, Spike? About…about last night…what, well," she cleared her throat with embarrassment.  This was not a question she ever thought she would have to ask, "what happened?"

            "Well, are you including getting piss drunk and stripping?"

            "Stripping?" Buffy's face flushed a brilliant pink and Spike chuckled despite himself.

            "Oh yeah, you're quite the little stripper.  You might consider it as a career path…especially considering I don't even have a pole."

            "Oh," she managed to choke out a nervous giggle, "So, um, what…else…did I do?"

            "Well, you were saying quite a bit, lemme think, uh," he put on a high-pitched falsetto, "'Oh Spike, you're so pretty…do you love me Spike? Do you wanna screw me? Huh?  I wanna screw you, Spike…can we? Can we now?  Oh, take me Spike!'"  Buffy's face was a shade of red previously unknown to mankind.

            "So…ahhh…did you?"  Spike's amusement quickly melted into anger.  He glared at her insinuatingly.

            "How can you even ask me that?" he growled quietly, "I can't believe this.  After all of this…that hurts Buffy.  I've sat around in stinking Sunnyhell, slaving away for your Scoobies, doin' my best, giving it my all.  So that you might figure it out.  Might show a sodding brain cell for once.  And just when I think I've gotten it through that thick Slayer skull of yours, you ask me something like that.  I love you, Buffy.  You.  Not your body.  If all I wanted was to screw the Slayer, I would have had my go with Faith and been out of here in a flash.  But no.  I stuck around, loving you.  It isn't about sex Buffy. Not even about kisses and hand-holding.  It's about you.  How perfect you are, in every bloody way.  Except love, though.  You hang on to any scrap of love someone might throw at you, but you ignore the guy who's begging for a scrap of yours.  No, Buffy.  I didn't 'take you'.  I wrapped you in a blanket, I put you into bed, and I watched over you all night long.  Because I love you.  I'm that stupid."

            "Spike…" she whispered, tears streaming slowly down her cheeks, "I didn't mean it like that…really I didn't.  I didn't want," she hiccupped, "to hurt you…"  Spike glared stonily at her for another minute, but he couldn't hold out against his girl, his Slayer, his Buffy, in tears.

            "Hush now, luv.  'S alright.  It's all alright.  There, it'll be fine now, Buffy.  Jut peachy keen, ducks.  Peachy keen."

            "I enjoy watching the foolish humans display their woes on national television," Anya told Gwinnie conversationally.  She had been sent to stay in Xander and Anya's apartment while Buffy worked things out with Riley.  Xander groaned and tried to bury himself in a carpentry magazine.  Anya seemed to have found a companion nearly as tactless as she was.

            "I haven't had access to a television for a very long time," Gwinnie admitted, "I haven't witnessed the latest dramas of the mortal coil."  Xander shook his head.  Trust the two of them to bond over talk shows.  Well, at least they'd finally solved the flower girl problem.

            Buffy took a deep breath and smoothed her blouse.  She wanted this to go smoothly and quickly.  The living room was clean, and there was a bowl of pretzels and a pitcher of lemonade on the coffee table.  She had done her hair, dressed up nicely and was perfectly ready to go (Willow's cure had worked wonders).  Ready, except for the abyss in the pit of her stomach, expecting doom.  She had a foreboding feeling things were not going to go as planned.

            The door swung open, and Riley entered the house.  Buffy prickled slightly at this, but her smile didn't betray it.

            "Hey Riley, come on in.  Would you like some lemonade?"  He pushed past her with a grunt and settled himself on the couch.  She walked around to the other side of the table and hovered.

            "This isn't a social call, Buffy.  Now, would you mind explaining to me what hallucination I seem to have had last night?"

            "You weren't hallucinating Riley.  It was real," she said, trying to keep her voice calm and unwavering.

            "So it's true that you're shacking up with Hostile 17.  Having his children, no less. I thought vampires didn't reproduce, Buff."

            "Gwinnie isn't my daughter, and she's not a child.  She's nearly 80, and a powerful warrior.  She's, well, she's sort of Spike's daughter.  She's half-vampire."  The was a bang as Riley slammed his palms on the table.

            "So you're letting Hostiles of all shapes and sizes into your home."

            "The 'hostiles' have a name, Riley.  Spike and Gwinnie are completely safe."

            "The only safe Hostile is a dead one."

            "Now we both know that-"

            "I leave and look what-"

            "Exactly!" Buffy's entire body tensed as she finally let her anger out, "You left.  You left me, and Sunnydale, and the whole thing.  That voids all your privileges, membership card was cut in half, end of story.  You have no right to barge in here and judge me!"

            "Judge you?  Judge you?  I come here, concerned about you-"

            "Concerned? Well that's a laugh!  Where was this 'concern' when you were off whoring with vampires?  Where was this 'concern' when you told me I could accept that you were a scumbag, or you were gone?  Where was the 'concern' when you flew away and left me standing here all alone?!  I loved you Riley!!"  They sat in silence for a few moments, chests heaving, keeping eye contact.  Buffy recovered first.  "There.  I said it.  I loved you, and you left me here without so much as a word.  But there's the operative word, you know.  'Loved'.  You aren't part of my life anymore, Riley.  You told me that when you got into the chopper and took off.  You can't just walk into my house, because there is nothing here for you."

            "Fine," he stood, "I understand.  I'll go."  He gave her a very fake smile and stormed out of the house.  Buffy sank weakly to the floor with the nagging doubt that he had given in much too quickly.

            When the doorbell rang, Spike was alone in the house.  Dawn was at school, Buffy was picking up Gwinnie, Willow and Tara were minding the Magic Box.  He grumbled as he went to get the door.  All the windows in the house had been at least partially covered, so he had almost total mobility.  When he opened the door, a fairly squat and pear-shaped woman with tight curls and clipboard stared up at him.

            "May I help you?" He asked cordially, not wanting to threaten someone important.

            "Yes, my name is Doris and I'm from Child Services.  I'm here to do an inspection on Miss Buffy Summers."

            "She isn't home at the moment," he said, relieved he had decided to wear the coffee colored sweater he had nicked from Giles instead of his usual black, "could I be of service?"

            "Yes, if you could give me a tour of the house, and I have a few questions to ask you, if you have the time."

            "Of course, of course, please come in," he waved her in, adopting a persona of warmth and trying to be as Giles-ish as possible.

            "So, if you could tell me your name and your relationship to Miss Summers?"

            "William Thornton.  She's my landlady, actually.  My daughter and I live in the basement."

            "The basement?" She asked, pushing a pair of reading glasses up her nose.

            "Oh, it's been furnished and very nice.  I could show you after the normal tour if you'd like."  He led her through the living room.  She peered around, jotting notes as they went.

            "Do you find Miss Summers an adequate guardian to her sister, Mr. Thornton?"

            "Oh, the best.  Buffy gives her all for Dawn, plus she's a complete sweetheart. Makes everyone in the house feel like a big family."

            "Who else lives here?"

            "Well, Willow Rosenberg and Tara Maclay are upstairs.  They help out with watching the girls and chores.  Then of course there's Buffy, Dawn, my daughter Guindeviere, and myself."

            "Where is Miss Summers?" Doris asked, sounding more curious than anything else.

            "Oh, she's off picking up Gwinnie, my girl.  She was off visiting friends, and I couldn't go get her myself, so the dear went to get her for me."

            "Why are all these windows covered up?"

            "That would be for me and Gwinnie," Spike said, trying to sound slightly embarrassed, "Extremely photosensitive.  It's not really a condition, but very close.  Gwinnie can go out if she has sun-block and most of her body is covered, but I really shouldn't be exposed at all.  Buffy is so accommodating, when she heard, she just covered it all up for us."

            "That was very thoughtful…" Doris said absent-mindedly, inspecting the kitchen cupboards.

            "Just goes to show how perfect she is for Dawn.  Doris, if it's not too much to ask…why are you here?  I thought everything was taken care of."

            "We got a call about possible neglect," she admitted, now watching him closely.

            "Really?  From who?"  
            "I'm afraid that information is confidential, Mr. Thornton."

            "Oh, I didn't mean to pry.  It's just, I thought it might have been from Riley Finn."

            "What if it was?" the woman asked, suspiciously.

            "Well, you didn't hear it from me, but he's Buffy's ex-boyfriend.  Tried to get her to leave Dawnie and go with him.  But she wouldn't do it, so he ran off.  Now he's come back, stirring up trouble and telling all sorts of tall-tales about poor Buffy."

            "Ahhh…" Doris seemed to consider this and find it quite plausible.

            "I'm such a gossip, really I am.  But I just couldn't let something bad happen after all Buffy's done for me.  Especially since she's had a lot of time on her hands lately."

            "Oh, really?  Why might that be?"  
            "Well, when their lovely mother died," Spike crossed himself pseudo-piously, "Buffy had to quit college so she could take care of Dawn.  She just can't seem to find a nice job that makes enough money to support the family, plus has hours where she can take good care of Dawn.  We all try to pitch in, but Tara's job is paying for Willow's college, and I'm a writer, so the pay's erratic.  Besides, Buffy will hear nothing of us giving her money.  We've tried everything.  Gifts, loans, even depositing money straight to her account.  She gives it all back and turns every offer down.  She's a proud bird, wants to stand on her own two feet for her sister."

            "Well…" Doris shifted her weight nervously, "I might be able to help with that."

That's all.  Lots of speeches in this chapter I know.  I generally tried to avoid them, but it seems I've got Noxon-itis.  Poor me.  cough speech


End file.
